


Snow, strife and destiny.

by Godsfavoritejoke



Category: Elder Scrolls, Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Drinking, Eventual Romance, F/F, F/M, Implied/Referenced Torture, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-31
Updated: 2021-02-06
Packaged: 2021-03-06 17:06:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,380
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26212372
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Godsfavoritejoke/pseuds/Godsfavoritejoke
Summary: Azukug Gro-Murtag had been many thing in his life. Stronghold orc, common thug, anti thalmor militia member but now after losing those he called family twice he has a chance to belong to a new family one of strength and steel. fate however has different plans for him and fate cant be avoided no matter how hard he tries.
Comments: 1
Kudos: 3





	1. Prologue

_ Time unknown, the ashpit, plane of Malacath _

Blazing sparks flew from the anvil drenching the dark room the forge rested in light. Weapons of all makes laid carefully in racks and plaques within, all master crafted and deadly as a raging bear. Another impact and more sparks were belched forth as the sword on the anvil was finally shaped, Plunging once more into the coals of the forge the dark metal began to glow bright red in the otherworldly heat.Steam bellowed from the forge as a daedra heart was crushed over it, the coals suddenly springing into even greater heat and drowning the workshop in light. The blade was pulled from the inferno, flames billowing from its edges and plunged into the tub of oil a few feet from the anvil, flames jumped from the black liquid and another heart was infused within the blade. Finally it was pulled from the oil and its edge gleamed as it easily sliced the strip of leather used to test its sharpness. Suddenly a gust of ice cold air swirled within the chamber and the smell of spider silk and nightshade filled the room as a lithe four armed woman covered in black silken garments stepped forward her shrewd gleaming black eyes surveying the workshop.

“Mephala…” Malacath sighed as he carefully placed the now hardened blade on a nearby table “Why are you here webspinner? Im busy.” Mephala let out a wispy chuckle as she stepped forward.

“Please Malacath there is no need for your… hostility. I simply wished to speak.” 

“All you do is speak. And it never brings good to those you speak to, I do not have time for your schemes and plots.” Malacath snarled as he turned and faced the prince of deceit. 

“I have no schemes today Malacath I only wanted to tell you that there have been… whispers that Auri-el seeks to ‘gift’ a mortal with the soul of a dragon.” Malcath knew that with Mephala there were always plots but his interest was piqued so he allowed the conversation to continue. 

“A new dragonborn? Do you know why?” 

“I can only guess, perhaps one of their inane prophecies are at hand but regardless the coming years should be interesting, those of the dragonblood always are.” Mephal smiled no doubt thinking of all the strife a Dragonborn could cause should they follow her teachings. 

“That doesn't explain why you have chosen to tell me, what is your game Mephala.” Malacath crossed his arms as he regarded his ‘fellow’ prince. 

“My game? I have no game Malacath. I told you because there have also been whispers that Auri-el has already tried to grant the soul but those he chose were… inadequate and that he now seeks stronger stock.” Mephala rolled her top set of shoulders as she tilted her head. “And I simply wanted to ask you to consider granting his request if he wishes to place this soul within one of your people.” 

“Why would he ask my permission?” Malacath scoffed 

“Because your followers are more often than not strong enough to endure the tests that his previous choices failed and as they are very connected to you spiritually he may not be able to simply give it to any orc at random. And before you ask, I want you to accept because a dragonborn with daedric influence has much potential and none of the rest of us would be asked… maybe Merida but I doubt it.” Malacath let out a bark of laughter as Mephala finished.

“Since when have I been included in ‘us’?” The prince of curses looked Mephala up and down “If you think this conversation would somehow endear yourself to me and this potential orcish dragonborn then you are mistaken. And if this is some attempt to satisfy my pride don't bother.” Mephala huffed as she looked out the room's only window and into the endless expanse of swirling ash. 

“Must you see insults where there are none?” she looked over shoulder “The others might underestimate you but I am not so foolish.” Malacath regarded her in the silence that followed. Maphala had rarely interacted with him and the few times she had were short and curt but she had never shown the lack of respect those like Bal or Azura had. For a brief moment he considered if this truly was her way of trying to form some sort of alliance between them and had no malintentions, but scolded himself when he remembered who he was looking at no matter how she acted the only thing one could trust when it came to Mephala was that she always had a game and she always worked to win it. Malcath however decided to play along for now and see what she was truly after. 

“Well I thank you for the information Mephala but I have much to do.” He ensured that his tone was not overly hostile and angry, hoping that Mephala would interpret it as him being touched by her acknowledgement of him. 

“You are welcome Malacath, I will leave you to your... work.” Mephala turned on her heel and in another gust of cold air was gone. Feeling confused and frustrated Malacath picked the unfinished blade up off the table and began placing the grip, made of hardened ivory and red leather, on the tang. He had to admit that the possibility of an orc with the soul of a dragon appealed to him but he doubted that the god of time would ask, it was not in his nature to ask the deadra for anything.Just as Malacath finished attaching the pommel to the blade a blinding pillar of golden light shot into the room. He looked at the radiant figure that stepped from it and snorted. He stood corrected. 


	2. Interesting jobs

_ 10th of rains hand 4e199, deep within the forest of the Rift, _

A cool breeze blew through the woods carrying honey colored leaves from their branches into the air, the sound of birds and the first of the nocturnal insects sang in an unending chorus of life. Skjor took a deep breath savoring the myriad of smells his enhanced senses picked up, a mile to the north upwind of their position a pack of wolves had just killed two deer a buck and a doe if he was correct. Somewhere closer then that the faint smell of beehive full with honey drifted over him the sweet smell easing his nerves. But more obvious was the scent spilling from the cave in front of them, death, sweat and the unmistakable aroma of trolls. Skjor sniffed and rubbed his nose, he hated that stench it was near indescribable to his sensitive sense of smell.

“Wasn't this cave supposed to be filled to bursting with trolls? Where are they? Ria asked as she nervously looked around.

“Relax sister.” Skjor drew his sword, the distinctive sound of it leaving the scabbard cutting through the ambiance of the Rift like butter. “They are in there, Trolls are not subtle if they were out here we would know it by now.” Ria nodded her nervousness fading and her courage filling the gap it left. 

“Well let's go get them then.” Ria took a few steps forward and Skjor found himself smiling, she had only just stopped being called new blood and he forgot how eager the young were when they became full fledged companions. 

“Right behind you.” The tunnel quickly opened to a large chamber filled with bones, the remains of carts and a few uneaten corpses but no trolls. Skjor took another deep breath. 

“That way.” He pointed to a passage to the left with his blade 

“Wow can you… smell them?” Ria asked confusion and admiration in her voice 

“The longer you live this life the sharper your senses get, they should if you want to survive anyway.” He mentally kicked himself as Ria nodded in understanding, one of the disadvantages of how deeply he embraced the wolf inside is he often forgot to watch his speech around those not of the beast blood and had to backtrack or make something up. “Lets not keep them waiting.” They turned and began making their way to the side passage when they found the first troll corpse, it was badly beaten, wounds that could only have been left behind by a war-hammer covering its body as well as a few burn marks. The beast's head was completely caved in and what was left of its brain was slowly falling out of the massive hole where its face used to be. Ria looked around confused as Skjor knelt near it “This is recent, no longer than an hour.” Skjor looked up “Come on” he started through the passage at a jog Ria quickly following. They found two more corpses as they left the tunnel and Skjor clearly heard roars further down the cavern and began to move faster the anticipation quickly filling him with excitement and blood lust.The sounds of grunts and impacts against the walls assaulted their ears as they ran. As they exited the next the passage they were met with the sound of bones cracking and a large body thudding. Sword in hand Skjor stepped fully into the chamber and locked eyes with an orc no older than 25, green skin covered in troll blood (The scent was obvious). His black hair was gathered in a ponytail at the crown of his head and everything below it was shaved. Dark red war paint that seemed to depict sharp teeth jutting from his jaw covered his face and his blood red eyes narrowed as they meet with Skjor’s 

“Who are y-” The orc was cut off as an ear shattering roar came from above him and the largest troll Skjor had ever seen jumped down from the outcropping above them, two smaller trolls following it. The two smaller ones attacked the orc immediately and the largest ran towards Skjor and Ria, It's dark grey hair barely covering muscles the size of Skjor's head. 

“Ria move!” Skjor shoved the imperial to side before he dove to the side, the troll lept in the air coming right for him, Skjor quickly rolled as both of the trolls massive fists slammed against the ground where his chest was a second before, dirt and small rocks exploded from the point of impact. Skjor surged to his feet and cut the beast three times against the chest before having to dodge another blow, “Don't let this thing hit you!” Skjor yelled as he backed up dodging more blows. Ria got behind the troll who had completely forgotten about her and plunged her blade into the back of its right knee,The beast roared as it was forced to kneel, Skjor slammed his shield against the side of its face and rammed his blade into its chest. The troll let out another roar and threw its hand back in an attempt to dislodge Ria who was forced to back away to avoid the earth shattering fists, Skjor wrenched his blade free and quickly began to back up but was too slow as the troll whipped around and sent a punch right at his chest, managing to just barely get his shield in the way, the force of the blow and the angle of it whipped Skjor to his left and brought him to his knees pain racing through the entirety of his body. Skjor had faced death many times in his life and each time prevailed, but he always knew one day he would make a mistake and those icy jaws would drag him into darkness and it seemed sadly today was that day. He knew the troll had raised both of its fists in preparation for another slam but Skjor couldn't get his legs to obey when he tried to move still disoriented as he was, The nord closed his eyes and prepared himself to meet Hircine even as he still screamed at his body to move. But the impact never came; instead he heard something slam into the trolls' side and heard Ria scream with terror and deep deep fury. His senses returning to him Skjor stood up and picked up his sword to aid Ria, her blade left crimson path after crimson path on the trolls chest but it would not be forced back and before he could get to her Skjor heard a sickening crunch as the beasts fist slammed into her shield. Time seemed to slow as he saw the imperial fly a few feet in the direction of the punch and even from this distance it was obvious her arm was shattered. Skjor realized that this situation was too serious and began to call the beast blood to him, his wolf spirit hollowing in approval, he would NOT let a shield sibling die because he couldn't recover from a strike quick enough. Just as the transformation was about to begin another roar filled the chamber but not from the troll, Skjor looked to the source as his wolf spirit wailed in dismay as the transformation stopped to see the orc in a frenzy, clearly wounded he had managed to kill the first troll and finished the second with one blow to its skull with such force that half of the things head exploded sending chunks of bone, brain and blood flying in all directions. It had been many years since Skjor had seen in ocrish blood rage but he could tell that this was no ordinary one. The orcs eyes had narrowed to pinpoints and his muscles seemed to nearly tear his skin and as he set his eyes upon the grey troll Skjor knew that this wasn't just an orc warrior this was a fully trained berserker. 

The orc rushed forward with terrifying speed and slammed his steel hammer into the trolls' side, wasting no more time Skjor lunged forward and began his own assault on the beast. Slash after slash, blow after blow the troll was forced back step by step. The troll in a last bid for survival shoved Skjor to the ground and quickly turned on its heel to face the orc who had raised his hammer expecting the beast to focus on Skjor and with all its force punched him in the chest, the force of the blow sent the orc rolling a few feet away and the troll once more turned to Skjor who had gotten up by now. “Just you and me now monster come on!” Skjor growled as he fell upon the troll again hoping this would be the assault to finish it. But he underestimated its regeneration and found himself slowly being overwhelmed, suddenly flames engulfed the trolls back and it screamed in pain. Skjor looked to see the orc in full sprint with flames spilling out of his left hand while he held the hammer in his right. The troll turned to face the orc and when it did Skjor took the chance and stabbed his sword into the same spot Ria had, The beast fell to its knee and began to turn and try to hit him but a blur from its left slammed into it and Skjor felt a deep sense of pride as he saw Ria standing with her Sword stabbed through the things side. The troll now pinned began flailing wildly but its fate was already sealed with its regeneration halted by the flames the bleeding wounds all over its body finally began to slow it and left it a perfect target. With another roar that shook the cave the orc swung with all his might into the troll's chest directly above the heart, the hammer struck with such force that it lodged in the creature's chest and Skjor had no doubt that it had absolutely destroyed its heart. Silence fell on the cavern as the troll slowly fell to its side and laid still. Ria whimpered in pain and crumpled to the ground, Skjor quickly rushed to her side. “You'll be fine Ria, Riften's only a few hours away I'll get you to the temple of Mara and they'll get you fixed.” An icy feeling settled in his stomach as he looked at her arm, the forearm was completely shattered being little more than a tube of meat with bone shards in it and her arm was dislocated at the shoulder. The girl was going to die and it was his fault, he didn't have potions strong enough for this and the internal bleeding would kill her long before they got to the temple he should have been faster. 

“She doesn't have that long nord stand her up.” Skjor looked to see the orc walking towards them as he dropped his hammer, mere moments ago this orc had been a force of pure rage and fury but now he seemed as calm as a pond in the winter.

“What-” The orc cut him off before he could finish his question.

“If you want her to live, stand her up and put her against a wall.” The orc knelt at a pack that looked like it had been thrown in a moment of surprise and rummaged through it before he pulled out a small smooth stick. Skjor slowly got Ria to her feet who at this point was practically incoherent with pain, Skjor held her good arm and braced her on a wall. The orc walked over and grabbed Ria’s chin and moved her to look at him in the eyes “Can you hear me?” he asked, Ria weekly nodded “Good” he placed the stick in her mouth “Your arms dislocated it needs to be put back in place but its gonna hurt, bite on that stick like your life depends on it.” the orc grabbed Ria’s upper arm “On five. One, two, thr-” before he finished saying three the orc violently pushed Ria’s arm back in place. The imperial bit hard on the stick and even muffled as it was the pain was obvious on her scream. “Good sit her down, listen to me your battle isn't over yet, you'll be fine” A kindness Skjor did not expect worked its way into the orcs' voice as he knelt. The orc grabbed Ria’s arm and she whimpered. 

“What are you doing!?” Skjor was about to shove the orc away from Ria when he shot him a look that allowed for no argument. 

“Shut up and let me focus.” The orc closed his eyes and a soft golden light flowed from his palms as he moved his hand up and down the arm. Ria let out another whimper of pain but one that was far less panicked. Slowly the spell knitted the bones back into their proper place and when he was done the orc let out a shuddering gasp and fell against the wall. A thick layer of fresh sweat covered his face and his eyes had slightly clouded over as he gasped for breath. “She will live but don't do anything with that arm for at least a week. The spell wasn't strong enough to heal the bones to their original strength; they will need time to fully heal.” 

“I...Thank you, what is your name?” Skjor stood Ria up as he spoke. 

“My name is Azukug Gro-Murtag, Azukug is fine.” The orc slowly stood up 

“Thank you again Azukug, I am Skjor and this is Ria. Why were you here, did someone hire you to clear out the trolls as well?” 

“Ah… no” Azukug rubbed his neck a little sheepishly “I was looking for a place to sleep for a while. I got tired of Riften and this place seemed perfect, large, easily defended and right by a stream. Didn't know the trolls were here until one attacked me in the first cavern. I thought it was going to be some wolves, maybe a bear in here.” Skjor chuckled as he regarded the young orc. He was strange this orc, clearly a formidable warrior but young and brash enough to try to take on a cave of trolls by himself, strong enough to turn a trolls head into mist but trained in restoration. 

“We were hired to clear them out; they had been cousin problems for Shors Stone killing traders and the like.” Skjor explained

“Are you mercenaries?” Azukug asked as he motioned for Skjor to follow him

“We are companions.” Skjor responded as he decided to follow

“I didnt ask if you were fucking human, I asked if you were mercenaries.” Skjor and the now more awake Ria stopped in their tracks, Ria blushed redder than an apple and started sputtering something. 

“You’re not from Skyrim are you? The companions are an old group of warriors based in Whiterun. Me and Ria are not  _ companions,  _ we are companions.” Skjor shook his head as Azukug began to unpack the bag he had gone to earlier “What are you doing?” Skjor asked as he raised his eyebrow

“Setting up camp she needs rest” Azukug pointed to Ria “And I need food, I assume you two are hungry as well.” Almost as if it could hear the orc Skjor’s stomach growled. 

“That is kind of you, thank you.” Skjor set Skjor Ria down on a log that the trolls must have drug in. He watched as Azukug pulled out what looked to be a portable spit from his pack and unfolded it. 

“I'm going to the stream to clean and get water for the stew.” Azukug stood up with a large waterskin in his hand 

“That sounds like a good Idea, Skjor could you help me up. I don't know if I can walk without falling right now.” With a nod Skjor helped her up and they began to follow Azukug towards the cave's mouth.

This job had turned out to be far more interesting than originally planned, he always had to get the interesting jobs.


	3. Mead, Nords and Giants

10th of rains hand 4e199, deep within the forest of the Rift,  
Azukug sighed as he finished the last of his stew Slightly dissatisfied with the kick of it which he kept low for the two humans.  
“Wow that was a lot better than I expected. I thought troll stew would be disgusting!” Ria giggled as she finished hers  
“Any thing can be good eating, just depends on how you prepare it. Troll meat is chewy, tough and has an earthy taste all you have to do is soften it up and find some herbs to compliment it , wouldn't ever recommend eating it on its own though.” He responded as he leaned back against the wall.  
“So tell us what brings you to skyrim?” Skjor asked before taking a long drink from his waterskin.  
“That obvious huh?” Azukug chuckled as he opened his eyes and looked over the two “Had to leave Hammerfell, isn't anything left for me there, and Skyrim seemed as good a place as any.”  
“Really even with the war?” Ria’s eyebrow rose as she glanced at Skjor.  
“Better than Cyridol or Highrock with the thalmor crawling everywhere, at least here the bastards step carefully.” He sneered, just thinking about the blackrobes put him in a bad mood “And besides Skyrim serves as a good proving ground, everything from the wolves to the spiders are more dangerous here what better place is there to prove myself to Malacath.” Skjor nodded and stroked his chin. The nords good eye clouding in thought.  
“If its glory you seek you would find it as a companion. You are strong and quick on your feet, we could use some new blood anyway.” An uncomfortable silence followed the offer as Azukug considered, If these two were any indication the companions were certainly strong but still a human guild of warriors might have a very different definition of honor then him, magic tended to make nords uncomfortable.  
“I.. will consider it Skjor.”  
“That's all I can ask, now it's time for us to go. We need to tell the village that the trolls are dead. Ria come on.” The two stood up and began walking towards the caves exit.  
“Before you go how do I spell your names, I'm going to offer the big one to Malacath but to do so without acknowledging your help would be dishonorable.” Azukug stood as he spoke. Skjor looked at Ria and shrugged.  
“S k j o r, R i a.” Skjor answered, slightly confused.  
“Thank you. Safe travels.” Azukug listened to their footsteps as they left and sighed when he could no longer hear them. He began the slow work of removing as much fat as he could from all the trolls, skinning the largest as well as removing and cleaning its skull. After four hours he had a sufficient offering, the trolls bones serving as the boundaries of a fire pit, two logs leaned against one another and wrapped in the trolls pelt held the beasts skull. Carved into the skull was his name as well as Skjor’s and Ria’s, a small amount of troll fat rested on the floor around the logs to serve as more fuel. Bowing his head Azukug began the prayer to Malacath in orcish. “Lord of outcasts father of pariahs hear my words and see my worth, These foes have fallen before the might of myself and others their bones and skin I offer to you to show our strength and ask for your endurance in whatever trials await me.” without lifting his head Azukug aimed his hands at the offering and sent flames spilling out of his palms. The Smell of burning troll fat was almost overpowering and the crackle of the bones as they burnt reminded him of his childhood and put him at ease.The smoke filled the chamber and slowly began to gather directly around Azukug. A smile crept its way onto his face as the smoke completely engulfed him showing Malacath's acknowledgment of his offering, soon he could not see past the cloud of smoke and the sounds of the ashpit filled his ears reminding him of the afterlife that awaited him at life's end, just as suddenly as it gathered around him the smoke floated to the top of the cave once more obeying the laws of mundus. With that done Azukug unfurled his bed roll, it was time for some well earned rest after that though… the companions sounded promising.

24 of Rains hand 4e 199, outside whiterun city  
The journey to Whiterun was longer than Azukug anticipated, taking him nearly two weeks on foot, though the bandit camps he ended up clearing probably didnt speed things up. Wasn't his fault though bastards were asking for it... ‘toll road’ his ass. He had to admit whiterun looked to be a comfortable city, judging by the amount of farms placed around it the city must contain a fair amount of people, a few hundred he would guess. A pleasant breeze swept through carrying the smell of honey and mead. He looked to where the smell seemed to be coming from and read the sign. ‘HonningBrew meadery’ hm smelled better then most mead. He needed a drink anyway so why not grab one before finishing the walk to the gate. As the door opened a draft of cold air hit him and a small bell rang.  
“Ah hello and welcome to honningbrew meadery, what could I interest you in?” A nord that Azukug assumed to be the owner asked as he closed the door.  
“A few bottles of mead for the road, some bread if you have any.” Azukug answered while pulling his coin purse from his belt.  
“Of course my good man… and tell you what. I've never seen you before and let it never be said the Sabjorn doesn't take care of first time customers, I'll give you 2 bottles for the price of one just this once.” The owner spoke as he pulled two bottles of mead from a shelf bearing a lightly glowing blue rune as well as a piece of bread from a chest beneath the counter “That will cost you 22 gold.”  
“22?” Azukug raised his eyebrow “Expensive mead.” He began pulling the money out.  
“Quality mead my friend, quality.” Sabjorn took the gold place on the counter and placed it under the counter “Why don't you see for yourself.” Azukug shrugged and opened a bottle and took a swig.  
“You are no liar Sabjorn.” The orc said savoring the taste “Puts that blackbriar swill to shame.” Azukug remembered the one time he had tried black briar, it was like drinking orge piss if you asked him.  
“I'm glad to hear it, you remember us whenever your throat runs dry my friend.” A smile bloomed on the nords face at the praise.  
“Count on it.” Azukug nodded as he turned to leave, taking another drink of the cold mead. Whiterun already seems a better place to stay than Riften. Better mead better weather, hopefully a better ruler. A massive thud ripped him from his contemplations, Azukugs head whipped in the sound's direction and he could see three figures fighting a giant on one of the fields. An unexpected surge of rage and hatred filled Azukug as he looked at the giant. He had seen giants before and been unaffected but something about looking at this one just angered him. Fishing the bottle of mead as he ran Azukug made his way to the scene and drew his hammer. Wasting no time he slammed it into the distracted giants side, the giant roared and swung its massive club directly at its newest foe. Azukug dove to the side to avoid the lethal blow. He could hear the giant's footsteps as he hastily got to his feet. Thinking fast he jumped backwards as another blow landed where he was just standing. The giant growled something in his language as he sent another swing towards Azukug. Dodging it Azukug lunged closer to the giant and smashed his hammer on its foot. Once more the giant roared in pain but before he could send a counter attack a massive sword cut deep into his raised arm and another, smaller, sword cut at the back of his knee just as four arrows pierced into his back. The giant feel to its knee and Azukug sent a massive blow across his face, knocking him to the ground, taking advantage of the giants vulnerability the owner of the great sword, a massive, black haired nord wearing a grey armour baring a wolf like motif, Cut into the giants neck decapitating him. Painting Azukug looked at the other figures, one was another nord with deep red hair wearing ancient looking armor and a very familiar imperial women  
“Ria?” Azukug gaped “What in oblivion are you doing fighting? I told you not to put stress on that arm!” He stomped forward only to have a massive hand press against his chest stopping him in his tracks.  
“It's alright Farkas he isnt going to hurt me, and you said a week and besides Danica at the temple went over it as well. “ Ria explained as she tapped ‘Farkas’ shoulder.  
“Fine, whatever” Azukug took a step back and looked over this Farkas.The man didn't look bad, not bad at all.  
“ Do you know eachother then?” The other women spoke as she crossed her arms.  
“ He helped me and Skjor with the trolls and healed my arm up.” Ria answered  
“Well you certainly would make a good shield brother as Skjor said.” The woman said as she worked towards him “I'm Aela, you here for the companions?”  
“Yeah, it seemed promising and Skjor recommended it so I came to join.”  
“Well you definitely have a fire to you, head up to Jorvaskr and speak to the harbinger, kodlak White-mane hell see if you have what it takes. We're going the same way if you want to go now.”  
“The sounds good” Azukug nodded “I'm right behind you.” He was right. Whiterun was very promising.


	4. Among the Honorable

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Been a while but im not dead and still posting

_24 of Rains hand 4e 199, Jorrvaskr meadhall of the companions_

Azukug couldn't say what exactly he expected when he entered the companions' mead hall but he could say with absolute certainty that a mug of ale flying into his chest was not it.

“Good aim you witless beast.” a mocking elven voice sounded out

“I'LL SHOW YOU AIM YOU POINTY EARED BASTARD!” a second voice roared in response to the jeer.

“Looks like those two are at it again, don't worry about it just go talk to Kodlak.” Aela sighed as she walked past him. Azukug shrugged and shook the ale from his hair before he began walking towards the stairs leading to the basement having already received directions from the huntress. The basement was cold and dry, a welcome difference from the hot humid meadhall, Old stones were bathed in dim fire light and the sound of a conversation flowed throughout from the back of the chamber.

“But I still hear the call of the blood…” A nord that looked a great deal like farkas but with short hair spoke solemnly

“We all do. It is our burden to bear but we can overcome it.” An old nord with a large grey beard spoke, his eyes showing wisdom and understanding. Before the younger could talk the older noticed Azukug “Ah but a stranger has entered our hall, tell me lad what brings you here?”

“I am here to join the companions.” Azukug straightened his spine suddenly feeling like a child speaking to its elder.

“Are you now? Here let me look at you hm…..” The old man looked him over almost like he was searching for something. Suddenly his eyes widened a small amount and he nodded his head “Yes perhaps. A certain strength of spirit.” The younger man looked at his fellow in surprise

“Master you are not truly considering accepting… him? I've never even heard of this stranger.” As the nord spoke Azukug felt anger rising in his chest

“Only a fool judges others worth through popularity, and I thought this was a place for warriors not fools.” He spat out as a sneer crossed his face

“Watch your tongue stranger!” The nord snarled as he stood up to his full height and took a step forward, Azukug cracked his neck and took a step forward as well. He needed a good fight. The giant didn't last long enough.

“Calm yourself Vilkas! I am no ones master and the stranger is right, sometimes the famous comes to us sometimes men and women seeking their fame” The old nord barked sternly as he glared at his compatriot

“You’re right Kodlak I am sorry but perhaps this isn't the time?” Vilkas sighed as his shoulder slumped under Kodlak's stern gaze

“Last I checked we had some empty beds waiting for warriors to fill them, all that matters is the boys heart.” Kodlak's tone softened a great deal as he spoke, Vilkas huffed and crossed his arm and looked to the Harbinger

“And his arm.”

“Of course, how are you in battle boy?” Tensing his muscles Azukug looked right into the old humans eyes, they were wise and cunning but there was a kindness there as well.

“I can handle myself.”

“That may be so, Vilkas here will test your arm. Take him up to the yard.” Vilkas groaned as he uncrossed his arms

“Aye, come on then.” The nord started walking towards the stairs with an air of annoyance. Azukug shook his head and followed in silence. As he walked up the stairs he gazed over to where the fight was, two figures both lay prone on the floor, a nord woman and dark elf man. “Ignore them,” Vilkas spat while opening a door that led into a courtyard. “The old man said to have a look at you so lets see.” The sound of steel leaving scabbard broke the relative silence of the training yard “Don't worry I can take whatever you can throw at me.” Azukug scoffed as he drew his hammer, this Nords arrogance was wearing on his patience. Vilkas opened with a quick lunge towards Azukug, the gleaming point of his blade aimed at the orcs chest. The steel head of Azukugs hammer batted the blade away but before he could counterattack Vilkas followed through on his momentum and slammed his shield into the orcs torso. The force of the blow forced him to the ground and he had to roll to avoid Vilkas’ follow up strike. Quickly springing to his feet azukug had to dodge another shield bash but doing so sent him right into the nords blade, pain shot through his back from the impact of steel against hide but he could tell that no blood had been shed. With desperation Azukug sent a quick blow at VIlkas hoping to break the humans relentless advance.Vilkas expertly parried the strike with the shield and slashed at Azukugs leg the blade once more being stopped by simple hide armor. With all of the strength he could muster Azukug slammed the shaft of his hammer against the nords chest finally stopping the unending assault. Vilkas staggered a few steps back which gave Azukug all the space he needed, quickly spinning on his heel he slammed his hammer into Vilkas, who had barely managed to raise his shield. The banded iron bent from the blows force but before Azukug could really register this small victory Vilkas, keeping his shield between them, spun on his own heel and brought the pommel of his sword across the orcs face following almost immediately with a bash across the chest that forced him to his knees and finishing with a slash across the orcs left check. Crimson splashed across the cobble stones and it was over. “Not bad, next time won't be so easy.” Vilaks sheathed his blade and offered his hand to Azukug. Signing as he did so Azukug grabbed it and stood up “You might just make it. But for now, you're still a whelp to us, new blood. So you do what we tell you. Here's my sword. Go take it up to Eorlund to have it sharpened. And be careful, it's probably worth more than you are." Vilkas unbuckled the sheath from his waist and shoved it into Azukugs hands before walking away. Looking around confused Azukug heard the sounds of hammer meeting steel above him and figured that's where this ‘Eorlund’ was, he grunted and walked towards it. If he had to be a damned errand boy to join the companions then they weren't worth it. Eorlund came into view as Azukug stepped up the final stair, the nords pale skin was covered in a sheen of sweat his muscular arms were covered in small burn marks and a mane of grey unkempt hair crowned his bearded head. Azukug was more focused on the forge however, a massive bird statue sat above it almost glowing in the forges intense light. The way the shadows and light of the forge danced across it made it seem almost alive and gave him the impression that he was being watched.

“What brings you here lad?” A deep and distinctly nordic voice rumbled and broke Azukug from his trance

“Brought Vilkas’, sword he wanted it sharpened” Azukug held the sheathed blade up and set it down on the stone surface near the forge

“Ah you must be new-blood then.” Eorlund drew the blade and examined it with a critical eye.

“They make everyone do errands to join?” Azukug asked as he crossed his arms“

"Oh, don't worry too much about it. They were all whelps once. They just might not like to talk about it. And don't always just do what you're told. Nobody rules anybody in the Companions." Eorlund ran a finger across the blade.

“Hm, you're telling me no ones in charge?” Azukug raised an eyebrow

"Well, I'm not sure how they've managed it, but they have. No leaders since Ysgramor. Kodlak is the Harbinger, and he's a sort of advisor for the whole group, but every man is his own. Every woman, her own."

“Good to know. Farewell” Azukug turned to leave “Before you go I have a favor to ask.”

“What is it?”

“I've been working on a shield for Aela. My wife is in mourning and I need to get back to her soon. I'd be much obliged if you could take this to Aela for me." Eorlund raised a fine made steel shield

“That is honourable of you, I would be glad to’” Azukug took the shield in his hands

“That's a good man, thank you” Eorlund nodded and turned to his work once more. Azukug walked down the stairs, a finer smith he had never seen and Azukug found himself wondering what he could learn from the man. Azukug wandered around the mead hall for a few moments before a helpful old woman directed him to Aela's chambers.

“Ah there you are, Skjor saw you training in the yard with Vilkas, told me that you gave him quite a thrashing” Aela smirked as Azukug entered the room

“Don't let Vilkas hear you say that Aela. Good to see you Azukug.” Skjor chuckled as he uncrossed his arms.

“Likewise Skjor, I have your shield huntress” Azukug turned to Aela and handed the Shield to her

“I've been waiting for this, my thanks..” She looked Azukug up and down “Tell me how do you think you would fare against Vilkas in a true fight?”

“Boosting is for fools and VIlkas bested me.” Azukug recognized the attempted prodding of his pride and wouldn't take the bait

“I figured you a man of action good to see I was right, lets have Farkas show you where you'll be resting your head.”

“Farkas!” Skjor barked out the nords name. Farkas appeared a few seconds later poking his head into the room

“Did you call me?” He asked as he stepped fully into the room.

“Of course we did, ice-brain. Aela scoffed “Show this new-blood where the whelps sleep.” she pointed at Azukug

“New blood?” Confusion covered the nords face before recognition bloomed in its place “Oh I remember you follow me.” Azukug followed as Farkas turned to leave and began small talk, oddly Azukug didn't mind the small talk usually he hated it seeing it as wasting time but something about the way Farkas made conversation eased the process And he didnt know how to feel about it. As Azukug gazed around the room he had been led to and sat down on one of the beds he allowed himself a smile, this was going to be interesting without doubt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so the gay begins


	5. Regrets old and new

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Skyrim is property of Bethesda only Ralyon and Azukug are mine

_30 of Rains hand 4e 199, Nightgate inn_

Hadring was a simple man with a simple life. Sure some days were more or less interesting than others but mostly he woke up at the same place and served the same drinks to the same customers and he was just fine with that. Unfortunately despite his simplicity it seemed tonight would be far more interesting then he had wished. He glanced nervously at the small squad of thalmor justiciars approaching him, their faces bearing wicked grins. The one in front had a long scar down her check and her finely made black robes swirled with her every step.

“Greetings good man how much for a few rooms.” The blackrobe asked a cruel lilt to her voice.

“I don't want any trouble alright?” His hand slowly began inching towards the mace under the counter as he swallowed, this was stormcloak land and the elves knew it.

“Trouble?” The elf looked offended “we are but simple travelers looking for a warm place to stay for the night good sir we bring no trouble.” Hadring sneered at the obvious lie.

“Who here are you hunting _elf_?” The blackrobe sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose.

“Typical human. No manners. Fine _barbarian_ if you want this to be difficult..” Before he realized it one of the subordinate justiciars leapt over the bar, grabbed Hadrings neck and slammed his head into the counter. “Now does this fit into your notion of us _human_? See I don't want any trouble either... I would very much like to not have to separate your filthy head from your shoulders and ruin a perfectly good bar counter” The elf gripped his jaw tight “So tell me, and I will only ask once, are any of the patrons here new to this… charming establishment? maybe someone who arrived here a few days ago?” the three customers in the room tensed as the two unoccupied justiciars turned to them “because we are tracking a very dangerous fugitive who poses a threat not only to us but your petty little uprising so by helping us you help yourself as well.” Hadring was a proud man and had no desire to give these filthy elves a damn thing but found his resolve crumbling as the black robe drew a dagger and held it to his throat “well human? Is your pathetic sense of honor worth your life hm?” What happened next happened so fast Hadring barely had time to process it.

There was a brief light and the sound of a spell being cast, before the justiciars could react the hooded elf who had came in a day ago flew from his seat and over the counter then plunged his sword into the neck of the justiciar holding Hadring down and slammed the hilt of the sword against the blackrobes face. Hadring fell to the ground and gazed at the high elf standing above him, the hood of the ragged grey cloak he wore had fallen revealing a sharp, elegant and aged face, a well trimmed white beard sat like snow against his golden skin, his mass of equally white hair had been pulled into an intricate half ponytail . As the three living justiciars recovered from the shock of this mer’s speed they drew their blades and readied their spells. The elf said nothing but cracked his neck before exploding once more into movement. With a blindingly fast flick of his hand a bolt of bright golden fire slammed into the blackrobe forcing her back a few steps before the elf once more leapt over the counter the tip of his shining glass blade slashing into the second justiciar's eye. The third went to slash at the elves back but was too slow. The elf raised his arm and the justiciar's blade slid off the gauntlet of what appeared to be a sleek, partially robed set of glass armor, the elf wrapped his arm around the justiciar's and plunged his blade into his foe's neck. The blackrobe snarled and sent a bolt of lighting at the elf which he effortlessly sidestepped before raising a shimmering ward to block the next two she sent. The second justiciar had recovered from the loss of her eye and swung her heavy axe towards the elf who parried the blow and kicked her knee forcing her off balance, taking advantage of the opening he had made, the elf swung down on her neck faster than any mortal should be able to. The justiciar's head and body hit the inns floor as the wizard sneered “We had been told it might be you but I refused to believe it.Traitor filth… how dare you turn your back on the dominion!” The elf regarded her for a moment before he answered, his startlingly beautiful voice floating through the air like a pleasant breeze.

“I remember you, Ayla right? You had such potential… it's a shame you fucked it up so bad and became this arrogant sack of piss.” The justiciar's eyes widened then narrowed with deep anger and she sent a ball of fire flying right at the elf. He raised both his hands conjuring a massive ward which swallowed the fire ball “Whoa there what happened to not ruining the bar counter?” The elf demanded before closing the distance between him and the justiciar in a second, she once more began to draw her dagger but the elf was far too fast and cut her arm off at the elbow before she could defend herself, followed with a deep slash through her abdomen. The justiciar fell to the ground without a word as the elf sheathed his sword before looking around the bar, he chuckled “Sorry about the mess Hadring you'll be fine cleaning up right?” Before Hadring could answer the elf grabbed his bottle of wine and was gone leaving Hadring and his two terrified patrons in silence. That …slaughter took no more than 15 seconds. Hadring really, _really_ , wished tonight could have been simple.

_30 of rains hand 4e199 the wilds of the pale_

“I am... an idiot” Ralyon sighed into the night air as he sat down in the small cave he had found, he had avoided the dominions gaze for nearly fifty years and he had just slaughtered a whole squad of justiciars ,with one of his old recruits leading them no less, how's that for irony? He took a long swig from the wine before closing his eyes. They had been looking for him specifically, which shouldn't have been possible; he had been so damned careful keeping his survival a secret and stepped so carefully to keep his tracks hidden. It didn't matter though, someone in the inn would talk and word would get back to whoever Ayla’s superior was and the chase would truly begin. “Ah sister if only you could see me now. The once proud and dignified Ralyon Graythor reduced to a clumsy drunk fool about to sleep on bare ground.” Ralyon sighed again as he looked around the cave “At least mother cant see me like this, could only imagine the fuss she'd make.” With another deep swig of the near empty wine bottle his eyelids began dragging, the siren's call of rest calling him to with an increasingly sweet voice. "I should have grabbed more wine when I left…” and with that last small regret Ralyon drifted off into sleep on the cave floor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter but I wanted to introduce the dominion into the story as well as higheleven dramatism  
> Thank you Randomidiot for the kudos and comment its much appreciated :)


	6. Continued Intrusions

_ The ashpit plane of Malcath, Time unknown  _

Malacath sneered as he heard the all too familiar cackling laugh of the mad god ring out through the sparring pit. 

“Sheogorath… why would you dare step foot here?” The low growl Malacath let out shook the room as he barely contained his fury 

“Ah Malcath...Maly can I call you maly?” Sheogorath sighed as they leaned on their staff the long purple and gold robes they wore swaying nonchalantly in the ash filled wind.

“No you-” 

“Thanks Maly. So listen I understand that gramps got you to kill your own son and then brought his head back to the isles, not gonna lie, kind of funny, but there isn't a reason to hold a grudge against me for it. Grudges are like angry little goblins they are… all ugly and full of teeth and spite.” Sheogorath twisted on their foot and skipped over to one of the one of the fighters in the pit who glared at the king of fools with absolute contempt. 

“DO NOT SPEAK OF MY SON YOU MUTTERING JESTER!” Malcath roared as he surged from his throne, his cleaver appearing in his hand “Leave now you intrusion is unwelcome.” 

“I get it you don't like me, I don't blame you but hear me out for a second and then I'll be out of your horns and back to new sheoth, I miss looking at colors that aren't grey and brown anyway.” Sheogorath crossed their arms as the floated out of the pit and towards Malacath “So things are about to get real interesting back on mundus and I think you and I could shake up some things down there maybe get back at some right bastards while we do it’

“This is about the dragonborn? No Sheogorath I'll not have another of my sons involved with you stay away from him and get out.” Malcath scoffed as he turned on his heel and began walking back to his forge 

“Ohhhh come on maly-boy I'm not trying to muck the boy up, and again I can not stress enough that the Sheogorath that killed your kid, albeit indirectly but still, was a different person altogether. That was just Jyggalag not being boring for a bit. I'm a whole different god look!” Sheogorath dashed in front of him and pointed to their face aggressively. Malcath had to give them credit; they weren't the Sheogorath that wronged him and they didn't try to present themselves like the old fool. Snow white hair wreathed their dark face, slight wrinkles appearing around their checks and their fiery eyes. An obnoxious smirk on their face. “All im asking is that maybe if you feel in the mood to kick some dirt in Boethiah's eye you tell your Dragon-lad down there about Boethiah's shrine have him earn some artifact or whatever from the sour bastard and then have him give it to me so I can do something to it that would make Boethiah mad.” 

“That makes so little sense that I can actively feel my soul wither. The answer is no if I wished to provoke Boethiah I'd do it myself, I don't need to play your inane games, now leave.” Malacath took a step towards the young prince his fist clenching tightly around his cleaver 

“Well then why don't you? Didn't Boethiah eat ya then shit you out like rancid cheese turning all your followers to big angry elves in the process? If I was you I would be trying to get back at her for that'' Shegorath sneered “I'd be playing hopscotch with her spine by now and I'm not even a god of spite and revenge. You don't seem good at this.” 

“Fortunately for me i'm not you fool, now get out I've suffered your presence long enough.” Malcath raised his cleaver in threat, the mention of Boethiah being the last blow needed to erode the last of his patience, if the mad god refused to leave then Malcath would force them out. The fact that he suffered them at all shocked him. 

“Fine I get it you're a sour bastard too.. Try to have some professional courtesy and he threatens to cut me in half. This is why no one invites you to parties Maly” Sheogorath grumbled as they opened a portal to their mad house and with a burst of color and noise was finally gone. 

“You two continue! the duel is unfinished!” Malcath barked at the two chiefs who immediately began their bout again. Malcath watched in silent fury, he was going to have to tighten the walls around his realm; these visits from the ‘others’ were getting old. He briefly turned his perception away from his own realm and gazed upon Azukug. He still didn't really understand Auri-els plan or why he involved Malacath but the potential in a demiprince dragon born was too great to refuse. In Azukug Malcath saw the orc who would truly unite his people and begin blazing their own path away from the weakness of man and elf, the boy just had to do the impossible, stop Auri-els first born from consuming mundus without access to his blood's full power. HIs soul needed strengthening before his daedric nature could begin manifesting and that meant the last true hope for mundus was extremely vulnerable and if he could not overcome the trials ahead of him then the orcish race was doomed and Malcath would be damned before that overgrown salamander destroyed his followers. Thankfully Azukug had joined a group of warriors that were strong…. well strong for humans. They could hone him closer to his true potential but the true trials would not begin until the world eater awakened and Malacath could feel the first ripples against the loose fabric of time. The lord of dragons was soon to return and events would begin to spiral into place soon. It was finally time to see if all this planning was worth anything. 


End file.
